


Washing Up

by girloftheq (qthelights)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Bubbles - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-02
Updated: 2004-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:08:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qthelights/pseuds/girloftheq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s my house, Orlando. I can do what I want.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Washing Up

Orlando sat on the counter in Bean’s kitchen between the sink and the stove. Beside him, Sean stood, elbow deep in the white soapy bubbles of the washing up liquid cleaning away the last remaining vestiges of the nights meal.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, heels of his sneakers hitting the cupboard door underneath him with soft rhythmic thuds as he swung his legs lightly, “There are easier ways to wash dishes.”

Sean’s mouth quirked in response but he kept his eyes trained on the bowl in his hand as he swiped the cloth over it. “Orlando, I’m not getting a dishwasher. I like washing by hand.”

“But it would be so much easier!” Orlando persisted, dark eyes sparkling with the reflection of the overhead downlights. The kitchen was warm, honeyed wood and glittering stainless steel. Modern and beckoning. Enveloping. 

“For who? I don’t see you offering to help.”

“If you had a dishwasher I’d help load it,” Orlando replied smugly.

“That’s very generous of you,” Sean monotoned setting a wine glass onto the nearby rack to dry.

“I’m a very generous man,” Orlando nodded in agreement, grinned at the grimace that passed over Sean’s face as he looked up at him.

“You are but a boy, elf,” Sean retorted, whipping his left hand out of the water and smearing a trail of hot water and bubbles over Orlando’s cheek in a mock slap.

“Hey!!” Orlando cried out, jerking his head away.

Sean grinned, laugh-lines creasing around his mouth and eyes. “Your problem Orlando,” he continued amused, “Is that you don’t know when you’re playing with the real men.”

Orlando glared at him and wiped at his cheek with the end of his shirt sleeve. “Bastard,” he accused vehemently.

Which only served to make Sean grin wider. “No one’s forcing you to come over here you know,” he said, plunging his arms back into the water to continue washing.

Orlando frowned into the water, watching the white foam creep up Sean’s tanned forearms. Failing to think of a suitable response though, he just grunted his annoyance and folded his arms across his chest.

Sean just chuckled down at the water and swiped the inside of the second wine glass clean.

“Why _are_ you over here so much, anyway?” Sean asked teasingly.

Orlando shrugged; leaned back against the timber frame of the window behind the sink, outside the world was nothing but black. “I don’t know,” he answered, no trace of deception in his voice. “I mean, the guys are great you know?”

He looked at Sean, scanned his eyes to make sure that he understood what he was saying. “They’re fantastic and I love them, but,” he stumbled over his thoughts a moment, “I don’t know…sometimes they’re just a bit too much.”

“Trust me, Orli, I get it. We _all_ get it.”

Orlando nodded, looked visibly relieved that Sean didn’t think him to be a terrible ungrateful person or some such thing. 

Sean started on the last plate remaining. “You know,” he mused, “Maybe you are a little older than your kidding around makes you seem.”

“Gee thanks, Sean,” Orlando grinned after a thoughtful pause.

Sean rolled his eyes, set the plate with the others to dry. “I take it back.”

Orlando leaned forward, perching on the wooden edge of the counter, fingers curling around the side. “You can’t,” he gloated, eyes narrowing in mirth.

Sean stepped sideways, directly in front of Orlando, “It’s my house, Orlando. I can do what I want.”

Orlando’s eyes widened slightly, amusement and surprise flirting in their depths, “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact,” Sean answered, stepping forward between Orlando’s legs in unconscious intimidation by proximity. Orlando stayed his ground.

Orlando scoffed, “You think you can control me, Northerner?”

“Yes,” Sean answered matter-of-factly.

“I’d like to see you try,” Orlando grinned, knew that he was winning this battle of patience and wits.

“Fine,” Sean retorted, gripped the tops of Orlando’s thighs with strong fingers and plunged forward. He saw the ‘o’ of surprise Orlando’s mouth formed even before he felt it against his own.

Though taken completely by surprise it only took a second, maybe two, before Orlando reacted, moaned deep in his chest and opened his mouth to Sean’s. The kiss was hurried and rough, managing still to be exploratory and predatory at the same time. And then it was over. Sean and Orlando were looking at each other, inches apart, both surprised and neither sure of what to think, let alone say.

“See,” Sean muttered eventually, finding his voice, “I can control you.”

The corner of Orlando’s mouth turned up, amused. “Sure Sean, you had complete control of the situation,” he quipped.

Sean slid his hands up Orlando’s thighs, curved them around his hips to his lower back and tugged him forward forcefully, bringing him closer. Orlando tensed then seemed to make some internal decision and hooked his legs behind Sean’s thighs securing him in place.

“Sure seems like I do.”

“Seems like we both do if you ask…,” Orlando was cut short as Sean’s mouth suddenly captured his again. Sean’s tongue invaded his mouth, clashed against his own in hot and sudden need. Orlando’s eyes slipped involuntarily shut, mind closing down and recognizing only the feel of Sean inside his mouth, teeth against his lips, the feel of strong, firm hands on his back. Sean’s Boromir beard scratched against his lips and he knew that later they would be red and swollen. Right now he didn’t care.

Orlando moved his own hands to Sean’s hips, gripping and releasing unconsciously; pulling him closer deliberately. Close enough to feel what this was doing to Sean, and to realize what that knowledge was doing to him.

Both were breathing hard, chests pressed together and fighting for space in which lungs could fill. Hands beginning to roam more urgently. Sean released Orlando’s mouth and dragged his own over Orlando’s jaw tasting salty skin and the rough feel of a day’s stubble against his tongue. Bit down gently where jaw angled sharply upwards, eliciting a low gasp and a shudder that ran straight down Orlando’s spine, before finding his earlobe and teasing that with his teeth instead.

“Orlando,” Sean growled against his ear, letting the name roll languorously across his tongue like satin sliding over a pane of glass. Only Sean called him by his full name, something that Orlando had thought was a distancing thing, but now, with a sudden rush, realized was actually meant in intimacy. And when it was said with that tone of pure lust Orlando thought he might have to change it so that he would never have to hear it from anyone in any other way.

Orlando’s fingers left Sean’s hips, moved inwards and fumbled with belt and zip in the small amount of space between them. This time it was Sean who was groaning as Orlando’s hands slid down under the denim, sought and found. Sean mimicked the movement by recapturing Orlando’s mouth.

Orlando’s fingers were cool on Sean’s skin, and that only served to make it all the more intense and with each movement, each grip and stroke and nudge Sean was losing any semblance of control he had claimed to have. Which would have worried him were it not for the fact that Orlando was barely keeping it together himself as Sean pressed and shifted against him. Little gasps and mewls and what could have been the actual attempt at formation of words escaped through his mouth only to be swallowed, uninterpreted save for guttural instinct, by Sean.

Instinct, which was fast approaching blatant knowledge. Sean’s mouth slowed suddenly against Orlando’s lips, and Orlando understood; softened against his mouth, licked and pressed and coaxed. Mimicked and pretended with his mouth until Sean stilled altogether, gasped the air from Orlando’s lungs and gave it back in stilted groan.

Orlando tightened his legs around the back of Sean’s legs, kept Sean afloat as he collapsed against his shoulder, cheek hot and breath hotter through Orlando’s shirt.

“Dear god,” Sean muttered into the fabric.

“What was that about control,” Orlando murmured into Sean’s hair.

A tired ‘hmmm’ was all he got in reply and Orlando laughed softly. “Well it is still your house after all,” Orlando continued. “And as you say, you do what you want in your house.”

“I do,” Sean agreed, pulling himself back up to face Orlando. Found eyes glittering behind clouds of want, brown skin that was wound with the electricity of arousal. Felt Orlando against his stomach as he moved.

“But you still won’t buy a dishwasher.”

“I won’t,” Sean smiled tiredly at the never ending energy from Orlando.

“But I have some other ideas about what you might want to do in your house.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes.” Orlando pushed Sean gently back from the countertop and slipped down gracefully. “And none of them involve getting clean.”


End file.
